


Mrs. Winchester

by noladyme



Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fun, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noladyme/pseuds/noladyme
Summary: The road so far...Lulu has been many things. A roller derby player, a waitress, a teacher, a bartender – once, she even pretended to be a journalist.One thing she has never been though, is a married woman. Becoming Mrs. Winchester suddenly became a reality, but the Winchester she married, was not the one you’d think… And she had no intentions of staying faithful.Our story continues in season 11
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s) (Platonic)
Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007559
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

2015 A.D. – Uphall, Mississippi

 _“That’s the eight man and woman to be killed this year; and the second since we arrived – all with weird looking carvings into their foreheads”, Sam sighs. “Dude, this isn’t going to stop”. His brother looks as mystified as he feels.  
“I don’t know what to tell you, man”, he says. “I’ve been through every _discrete _dating website I can find, but still nothing… At this point even_ I _feel dirty looking at those things”.  
Sam shrugs.  
“Well, I still think it’s our best shot at finding potential future victims”, he says. “All of them have been married adulterers”.  
“Yeah, but we can’t find any other connection between them. And people cheat all the time without getting killed", Dean grunts. “It’s not a maren, the victims weren’t sleeping when they were killed… Ghost?”._

_Sam growls in frustration, and runs his hands through his hair. He needs sleep, and is desperately missing his bed in the bunker. This motel smells like cleaning products and sadness.  
“We need to slow it down; make sure it doesn’t attack any more people, until we know how to deal with it”.  
Dean frowns at him.  
“Yeah, but how?”.  
A thought enters Sam’s mind.  
“By making it focus on someone specific. We could call in some help…”, he suggests, giving his brother a look, he knows he’ll understand. Dean raises a knowing but wary brow at him.  
“Are you suggesting… One of us… Who?”._

_Sam shrugs, and gives him a sly smile.  
“Well, I know someone who might be able to help”.  
Dean widens his eyes, and immediately shakes his head.  
“No, Sammy. We’re not dragging her in to this…”, he says pointedly.  
Sam rolls his eyes.  
“Well, who then?”, he asks.  
“I’m not letting you… No!”, Dean growls. “Off limits, man!”._

_Sam gives his brother the look he knows can melt the heart of any person – sometimes even Dean.  
“People are dying, Dean. She’ll want to help”. Dean lets out a roar in frustration; and Sam quickly thinks of a way to try to further convince him. “If we do this, it also means that you get to… you know…”. He tries for a sly smile.  
“This is a conversation we should not be having", Dean exclaims._

_Sam shrugs.  
“Come on, I’m not stupid. It’s not like you two spend your time playing Go Fish, when you’re alone together".  
“We did, one time", Dean smilingly remembers. “Different kind of fishing, but…”.  
Horrifying images of his brother runs through Sam’s mind, and he holds up his hands to make him stop.  
“Too much info. Don’t need to know", he yelps. “But just… think about it. It’s the one person we both know who’d _possibly _be ok with this. And we might be able to end these killings".  
Dean seems to ponder his words; before narrowing his eyes at him.  
“Fine… But you owe me!”, he snarls. “And I’m taking half your crap in the divorce!”._

_He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and dials up a number. He waits for a moment, before someone at the other end picks up.  
“Hey, Lou… It’s good to hear your voice too…”. Dean looks up at Sam; before turning his back a bit, for privacy. “Miss you, is all… Yeah?”. Dean chuckles, and makes the facial expression he always does when trying to come up with some flirtatious response to the woman he loves more than even his car. “Well, you always had a way with… oh, wow! I’ll have to keep that in mind”. _

_Sam clears his throat; and looks at his brother meaningfully. Dean shakes himself to get back on subject. “Uhm, look. We’re on a case in Mississippi, and we might need a hand here… No, we’re fine. Just a bit stuck. Do you still have that pink dress…? Great. Here’s the thing…”._

\---

It was a warm day just outside Uphall, Mississippi; and I was decked out in a pink lacy dress; which had once been worn by Molly Ringwald. In front of me, stood Dean, in full fed-garb; looking surlier than I’d ever seen him.

“Have I mentioned how much I _hate_ this?”, Dean muttered below his breath.  
“Only about a hundred times”, I sighed. “Look, _you_ called _me_. You need my help”.  
“But _this_ though? And _him_? It’s weird…”.  
I grabbed Dean’s tie, and tightened it.  
“It’s not like we haven’t done this before. It’s like with the maren… sort of", I retorted.  
“That was completely different”, he frowned. “This is the real deal! The whole nine yards”.  
“It was him, or Cass.”, I smiled. “And I don’t think it would work with him, seeing as he’s technically inside me, and _will_ be when we…”.  
Dean seemed to swallow bile.  
“Not helping”, he frowned. I kissed his cheek; lingering for a moment, to brush my lips over his stubble.  
“Let’s just do this. Walk me down the aisle, _lover_ ”.  
He grimaced.  
“I can’t… I have to be the _best man_ ”, he sneered.

We began walking up the steps to the small roadside chapel. Just inside the door, Cass was waiting, with a small bouquet of gas-station flowers.  
“I never quite understood the tradition of carrying dying flowers while one is getting married”, he wondered.  
“It’s a symbol of the couple’s sex-life”, Dean said. “After the wedding…”. He made a cut-throat gesture.  
“Good thing I’m not marrying _you_ then”, I smirked. Dean’s lips twitched into a smug smile.

A short, chubby man, with a bolo tie, came over to speak with us.  
“Usually, I like to get to know the couple I’m about to wed”, he said, with a thick southern accent.  
Dean pulled out small wad of twenties, and squeezed them into his hand.  
“Well, pastor Gunnar; this is kind of a… special situation”, he smiled. The pastor cleared his throat.  
“Yes, of course… I understand”, he said. “And you are…”.  
“The best man”, Dean grunted.  
“And, you’re giving her away?”, the pastor asked; looking at Cass.  
The angel cleared his throat.  
“Uhm… I-i am… it seems”.  
“And you are…?”, the pastor muttered.  
“My brother”, I smiled. “Cassius here is very intent on me getting hitched to that tall hunk of man over there”, I smiled. “Especially seeing as…”. I rubbed my belly. Dean looked like he’d just eaten a box of nails. “Go”, I said, waving him away; and he headed towards the altar, muttering curses all the way. The pastor followed him.  
“Sir, this is a house of the lord… Please don’t use profanity…”.

I took a deep breath.  
“Well, this isn’t how I saw this day happening, but what the heck”, I smiled. “Cassius?”. Castiel frowned at me, but held out his arm, for me to grab it.  
An elderly woman at an organ – intricately ornated with beautiful carvings in the wood – began playing the wedding march; and Castiel and I made our way up the short aisle, where my “brother” handed me over to a grey looking Sam.  
“Hi”, he said, trying for a smile. I stifled a grin.  
“It’ll be over soon”, I whispered. Sam blew out a breath; peeking over his shoulder at Dean – who looked ready to throttle someone.

The pastor went to stand in front of us, and opened his bible.  
“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today, to wed this man and this woman”, he smiled – fanning his hand across his face. “Marriage is an institution not to be taken…”.  
“Just hurry this up, reverend”, Dean growled. Sam smiled slightly, and nodded.

“All right…”, the man said. “Samuel William Winchester, do you take this woman, Lulu Moore; to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live?”.  
Sam looked at the pastor, then moved his eyes to me. He seemed unsure what to say.  
“Sweetiepie?”, I smiled; looking at him meaningfully. Sam swallowed hard.  
“I… do?”, he said, almost more a question, than a response. The pastor seemed to accept his answer.

“And you, Lulu Moore, do you take this man, Samuel William Winchester; to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?”.  
I shook my head.  
“No… strike the _obey_ part”. Dean almost snorted a laugh, and Sam bit his lips to avoid grinning. The pastor frowned.  
“It _is_ tradition around here…”, he muttered. The woman by the organ frowned at me; narrowing her steel grey eyes.

“Not happening”, I retorted. “Wedding’s off”. I began moving away; when Sam took a firm hold of my hand.  
“Uhm, sweetie?”, he smiled. “What about the… situation we have going on here… We kind of need this”.  
The pastor raised his brows.  
“You wouldn’t want that child born out of wedlock, now would you, young lady?”.  
Sam’s eyes widened.  
“You told him we…?”. He couldn’t finish his sentence. I shrugged.  
“Still not obeying. For anything”, I smiled.

Dean stepped over to speak to me; placing a somewhat gentle hand on my shoulder.  
“Look… we went _this_ far… Let’s just finish it”, he said. “I can’t wait to have you… as my sister in law”. His voice was deep a gruff, and he swallowed hard just after saying it.  
“Just another vow I’ll have to break, then”, I muttered with a frown. “Fine, whatever. I do”.  
The pastor sighed in relief, and Sam placed his hand on my upper back. Dean stepped back, and braced himself for what was coming.  
“Then, by the authority vested in me by God himself, and the state of Mississippi, I pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined together, let no man nor woman put asunder”. Dean sent me a look from behind Sam, and I stifled a grin. “Do you have rings?”.

Dean’s eyes widened, and he riffled through his pockets, producing two gold plated wedding bands. Sam and I made a show of sliding them onto each other’s ring fingers – and I was momentarily distracted by a sniveling sound, as the elderly woman wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

“Now, you may kiss the bride…”.  
Sam’s eyes widened.  
“Actually, no, that’s fine. We don’t have…”.  
The pastor chuckled.  
“Come now, son! It’s not like you haven’t already been there”. He gestured towards my belly. “Make it official!”.

Sam looked back at Dean with what looked like terror in his eyes.  
“Let’s just do it”, I grunted, grabbed his tie, and pulled his face towards mine; planting a chaste kiss on his lips.  
Behind me, Castiel was clapping his hands.  
“Congratulations!”, he smiled; before Dean sent him a menacing look.  
“All right, that’s enough”, he growled, and patted his brothers shoulder a bit harder than necessary.

We signed some very official looking documents – with Dean and the elderly organ player signing as witnesses – before I hooked my arm through Sam’s.  
“Let’s go, husband!”, I said, and we walked out of the chapel, with Dean and Castiel in tow.  
Outside the Impala and my Boy were waiting. Sam and I headed towards the T-bird; but Dean halted us; grabbing my free arm.  
“Excuse me, Sammy. I’m going to kiss the bride now”. He pulled me flush against his chest; and put his hand behind my head – placing his lips on mine, and taking my breath away. Sam cleared his throat.  
“We have an audience, Dean”.  
Dean pulled back, and looked at me – promises of something very intriguing in his eyes – before looking back towards the chapel, where the pastor and the old woman were standing, looking at us.  
“Sorry… She’s all yours…”, he muttered, ran his thumb over his lower lip; and let me go.  
I handed Sam the keys to my car.  
“You should drive”, I croaked, my voice breaking. He chuckled, and opened the passenger side door for me; before getting behind the wheel himself.

The old woman came running down the steps of the chapel, waving at us to wait. She held up a sign that read _Just Married_ ; and taped it onto the back of the car. Dean grimaced, got into the Impala with Cass; and followed us down the road.

\---

A few hours later, I was seated next to Sam at the small restaurant and bar connected to our motel. We were playing the part of doting newlyweds sublimely – fake smiles on both out faces, as Sam fed me cake.  
“Yum…”, I smiled.  
Dean was grimacing from across the table.  
“Ok, cut it out…”, he complained. “Let’s just get to the next part of the plan…”.  
“You want it to look real, don’t you?”, I smiled. I leaned my head on Sam’s shoulder. He laughed nervously.  
“Maybe… Dean’s right”. He patted my head, as I kept teasing his older brother; by looking at him lovingly.

Castiel looked at the three of us with a confused expression.  
“I don’t understand… You two just got married, and promised to stay faithful to each other, under the eyes of God”, he said. “Now you’re going to…”.  
“Cheat…”, I said.  
“It’s not cheating!”, Dean said. “It’s…”.  
“Cheating… on her _husband_ ”, Sam said. “And that was the plan all along. If we’re going to draw out this ghost, we need it to seem as if Lulu’s broken her vows to me. The ghost will go after her and Dean, and we can finish it”.  
“Besides, Cass”, I smiled. “It’s not like God has shown his face _or_ eyes around here lately; so it’s not _really_ a sin”.  
Castiel seemed to ponder my words.  
“I suppose you’re right”, he muttered. “And you _are_ doing it for a higher purpose”.

I chewed my lip for a moment.  
“Don’t get me wrong”, I said. “I’m more than happy to… marry into the great house of Winchester; but just drawing out the spirit? That’s not much of a plan, if we don’t know who or what it is. Or how to finish it off”.  
“Well, having the spirit focus on you and Dean, might make it less prone to attack anyone else, while we work it out”, Sam explained.  
“Which is _another_ part of this plan I’m not good with”, Dean grunted. “Throwing Lulu into the line of fire like this…”. He clenched his jaw.

“I’ll be fine”, I muttered. “You know, I still think it’s weird you never found any bones to burn, if it _is_ a ghost”, I said; taking a large sip of my beer. “But I appreciate you calling me in… almost makes me feel part of the family again". I gave all three men a chiding look.  
Dean wouldn’t meet my eyes, and Cass looked like schoolboy who’d been caught stealing. Sam sighed.  
“Look… I get it, you’re angry that I didn’t call you in when we were working to get the mark gone…”, he said quietly. “But I didn’t want you to have to struggle with your loyalties again, after the whole thing with going to help Raul. I couldn’t…”.  
“Trust that I wouldn’t tell Dean?”, I asked.  
“Lou…”, Dean said. “It would have been a rock and a hard place for you… And I wasn’t doing good. Being around me then…”.  
I raised my brows at him.  
“Dangerous, scary and potentially deadly… Yeah. Been there, done that”, I retorted. “Point being, pull something like that again, and I’ll have your collective asses, am I clear?”.  
“Yes, ma’am”, Sam muttered.

I had another piece of cake.  
“Oh, yeah… And that freak lightning-storm, followed by a black smoke hurricane, in Nebraska… Care to explain that?”.  
“Uhm, yeah… That was The Darkness…”, Dean said. “She got set free, when the spell took the mark away”.  
“Huh”, I scoffed. “The bad guy this season, I’m guessing… You guys; you know that your lives are more or less a weird ass tv-show by now, right?”.  
“Just don’t call me Buffy”, Dean grunted, and took a sip of his beer.

“So, what were those weird looking carvings on the victims?”, I asked, trying to clear the tension I’d been part of creating myself.  
Sam pulled out his phone, and showed me a picture of a dean man, with a sigil carved into his forehead. It was a line, with a set of lines drawn from it in diagonals.  
“We haven’t been able to recognize it in any of the lore”, he sighed. “You ever seen anything like it?”.  
I frowned.  
“I don’t know… it looks… maybe runic?”.  
Dean raised his brows.  
“Runic carvings in the bible-belt? Doesn’t make sense”.  
“When does anything we do make sense?”, I chuckled.  
“Good point”, he admitted.

“What about interviews? What have they led to? There has to be some connection other than…”. I gestured towards the ring on my finger. “I mean, otherwise this whole plan is kind of a long shot, don’t you think?”.  
Sam shrugged.  
“Well, like we told you, the vics all died in pairs – sometimes behind locked doors – which is why we’re thinking ghosts”, he said. “And their phone and email records show that they had extramarital affairs with each other; which is probably the motive”.  
“Then, what about the husbands and wives?”, I asked. “Talk to them?”.  
Dean chuckled.  
“Look around, sugar”, he smiled. “This is probably the most conservative town in one of the most conservative states in the country. No one around here are willing to talk about their spouse cheating on them; because _Carl would never do that. He was a God-fearing man!_ ”.

I looked around the room, realizing Dean was right. Every woman in the room was conservatively dressed in knee length skirts, and teased hair; and the men they were having dinner with were all sporting crewcuts or slicked back hair. There were wedding bands on ever couple’s hands; and if not, the woman would be wearing a twinkly engagement ring.  
“The only ring in this room that are not wedding or engagement rings, are promise rings”, Dean grunted, before shaking his head in disgust. “Makes my skin crawl”.  
“It would”, Sam chuckled. “But Dean’s right. We haven’t been able to get anyone to talk about their spouses cheating. They all seem to rather be pretending to have had perfect relationships, than admit to have had problems in their marriages”.

I let my eyes wander around the people in the room again. I noticed two women deep in conversation, with one of the women widening her eyes, and giggling at the other’s words.  
“What about gossip…?”. I nodded my head towards the women. “Locker room talk?”. I gestured towards two men snickering to each other at the bar. Dean furrowed his brows, and finished his beer.  
“I’m going to get another one”, he muttered; his eyes on the two men.  
“You do that”, I smiled. “Bring back some bubblies. To celebrate!”. I kissed Sam’s cheek, making him jump slightly in his seat.  
“Ok, now you’re milking it”, Dean growled.

Once Dean had reached the bar, I went back to my cake.  
“He missed you”, Cass said. I smiled at him softly. “And he’s excited to have intercourse with you”.  
My eyes widened.  
“Ok, that’s enough”.  
“What did I say?”, the angel asked.

\---

We finished out meal, and headed out of the restaurant. The guys had booked two rooms; one in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Winchester; the other was in the names of Mr. Lennon and McCartney. Everything was perfectly set up for our wedding night – in spite of the fact that the motel was dreary as hell. At least it had magic fingers, as Dean had proclaimed smilingly, when Sam and I checked in under the same name.

“What did you get out of those men?”, Sam asked Dean, as we walked towards the rooms; my arm hooked through his.  
“Not much. They both knew all the victims, but it’s a small town”, Dean frowned. “They invited us to church tomorrow, though”.  
“Might not be a bad idea to go…”, Sam muttered. “These kinds of people usually trust other churchgoers more than heathens”.  
Dean groaned.  
“I’m gonna have to wear this suit again tomorrow, aren’t I…?”.  
“Sure are”, Sam grinned. “When and where?”.  
“The chapel”, Dean grunted. “10.30 am”.

Once we arrived at what was officially Sam’s and my room, and he opened the door, I halted. The men all looked at me in confusion. I raised my brows at them.  
“Just married… threshold…”, I smiled. Dean frowned.  
“Seriously? Come on!”, he growled.  
“Dead serious. Samuel?”.

Sam looked at his brother apologetically; before picking me up; and carrying me through the door. Dean muttered curses again.  
“Ok, we got it. Thank you, Samuel”, he grunted. “Now, get out”.  
Sam put me down.  
“Thanks for doing this”, he smiled.  
“It’s her pleasure”, Dean muttered, and came into the room; and dropped my bag on the floor. “Go!”.  
“Goodnight, husband!”, I grinned.  
“Wife…”, Sam said, stifling a grin. “We’re two doors down if you need us”.  
Dean slammed the door in his and Cass’ faces; and we were alone.

I kicked off my shoes, and went to check the fridge.  
“Still hungry?”, Dean asked; his voice more level. I grabbed a couple of beers, and handed him one.  
“No… just thought you’d need some liquid courage”, I muttered. “It’s been a while…”.  
Dean looked down.  
“Look, if you don’t want to do this… I get it”, he said quietly. “Last time we… It’s not something I’m proud of”. He opened the beer, and took a sip.  
“You weren’t… It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it… at least physically”, I whispered. “It was more the whole… feeling like a random skank you’d just picked up at a bar, and didn’t care about”.  
“I’m sorry about that”, Dean muttered.  
“I know”, I smiled softly. “It’s in the past”.

We both sat down at the small table; avoiding eye contact.  
“Thank you”, Dean said. “For showing up, after what I did to Charlie…”.  
I’d spent some days trying to pull Dean out of his misery, after he’d lost it, and hurt her. He’d found it hard to be around me – worried he’d do to me what he had done to her – so we hadn’t been physical beyond a chaste kiss here and there, and him falling asleep in my arms.  
A sting of pain went through my heart; remembering the phone call Sam had given me, after Charlie had died.

“You’re welcome… I don’t know that I made much of a difference, from what you told me happened afterwards”, I said.  
A smile ghosted his face.  
“You did… I think it reminded me I wasn’t a monster. At least for the while you were there”.  
I smiled back at him.

“So, uhm… What happened, after you left that last time?”, Dean asked. “You didn’t check in for a while”.  
I shrugged.  
“Work… you know how it is”, I sighed. “And you seemed pretty insistent that I stay away unless it was extremely necessary”.  
“Just trying to keep you away from what was going on with me”, Dean muttered.  
“For my sake, or your own?”, I said quietly. Dean let out a soft laugh.  
“Honestly… I don’t know at this point”, he admitted. “But I’m glad you’re here now. Even if we don’t… you know…”.  
“Bump uglies?”, I smirked.  
“We don’t have to”, he assured me.  
“You… don’t want to?”, I whispered.  
“You kidding me?”, Dean scoffed. “If it wasn’t for the fact that, that dress you’re wearing is a part of cinematic history; I’d tear it of you in a second… If you’d let me”.

I laughed out loud, and got up to stand.  
“I hate this dress with a passion. I’d be fine with you ripping it to shreds for whatever reason you feel like”.  
Dean frowned deeply.  
“Are you kidding me?”, he guffawed, getting up himself. “As a kid, I used to _dream_ of taking Andie Walsh to prom”. He stepped closer to me.  
“In stead you got Susan Farrow… and those other chicks”, I smiled, taking a step towards him myself.  
“They didn’t look this pretty in pink”, Dean smirked.

He moved a lock of my hair behind my ear; his fingers lingering on my cheek.  
“So, are we going to dance? Or are you going to take this thing off me…?”, I whispered.  
Dean swallowed hard, looking almost fearful for a moment.  
“Are you sure?”, he asked quietly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not… comfortable with”.  
“I haven’t seen you in months. You haven’t touched me in… forever”, I said. “Besides… it’s my wedding night”. I gave him a playful pout.  
Dean winced.  
“You married my brother”, he grunted. “I still can’t get over that”.

I got up close to him, and put my hand on his chest.  
“Dean, take this ridiculous dress of me; and help me cheat on my husband”.  
He narrowed his eyes playfully.  
“Would you be surprised to hear, that’s not the first time a woman has said that to me?”, he asked.  
“Not at all”, I chuckled. “Now get to it, Duckie!”. Dean frowned. “We both know she should have ended up with him”.  
Dean shrugged in agreement, put his hand on my cheek, and pressed his soft lips to mine.

I was instantly feeling my knees begin to give in; and leaned against Dean – breathing him in. I parted my lips, letting my tongue glide across his lower lip. Dean let out a soft groan; and I felt him smile against my lips.  
I tugged at the knot of his tie – loosening it, and pulling it over his head. Discarding it on the floor, I ran my hands up his chest, and under his jacket; pushing it down his arms, and letting it drop down next to the tie.

Moving his lips towards my neck, Dean tugged gently at my earlobe with his teeth. His warm breath tickled me, and I let out a soft giggle.  
“I missed this”, Dean breathed. “Making you smile… It’s been a while since I could do that”.  
I gently kissed his jaw, and began opening the buttons of his shirt. He helped me, to speed up the process; and I could already see the fabric of his pants stretching from his beginning erection.  
It sent warm pulses through my core in anticipation.

Once his shirt was off, Dean began pulling the godawful dress up my legs and torso; before finally getting it over my head. He looked down at my chest.  
“Wow… You’re…”.  
“The dress doesn’t really allow for a bra”, I smiled.  
“Well, good for me”, Dean smirked, and slid his fingertips over my mounds, before squeezing them gently. My breath grew ragged from his soft touch, and I closed my eyes in pleasure. He snaked his right arm around me, and leaned in to kiss me again – this time with more fervor and want.  
His hardness pressed against my belly.  
“Bed?”, he asked.  
“Uh huh…”, I rasped.

I walked towards the bed, and sat down on the edge of it, looking up at Dean. His eyes traced my body’s curves with admiration.  
“How did my brother score a hot chick like you?”, he smirked. I ran my fingertips down his stomach.  
“Shut up, and get in here”, I chuckled.  
“Sure thing, Mrs. Winchester”, Dean grinned.  
He leaned over me, and kissed me – then got onto the bed; placing his leg between mine. Very carefully, he stroked my cheek; not putting his weight on me.  
“I’m not made of glass, Dean”, I smiled. His brows furrowed.  
“I don’t want to hurt you… not after everything that happened”.  
“It’s ok…”, I whispered. “I’m ok”.  
Dean nodded, and kissed me again; stroking his fingers down my side, and hooking his thumb into the fabric of my panties.

“No”, I breathed. He pulled back, and looked at me with a confused expression. I put my hand on his chest, and pushed him off me. “Lay back”. A smile ghosted his face, and he crawled over to lay with his head on the pillow.  
As I straddled his legs, he put both his hands on my breasts, stroking his thumbs over my nipples.  
“This is a nice view”, Dean smirked.  
“I’m happy with mine as well”, I smiled; and gently ran my fingertips down his torso – tracing every edge and muscle. As he pulled at my nubs, I returned the favor; making the man under me gasp.

When my hands made their way to the waistband of his slacks, I bit my lip. This had almost always been my favorite part of undressing Dean. Not that I finally got to set my eyes on his penis – though that was a delicious sight in and of itself – but it was his face as he watched me. All the anticipation his eyes expressed – all the things he wanted me to do, and all the things he wanted to do to me – with me. The love and lust he had for me; which made me feel strong, important; and beautiful.

I opened the buttons on his pants, and tugged at them. Dean lifted his bottom, as I pulled both them and his boxers down; freeing his erection. I let out a pleased sigh; before remembering something.  
“I almost forgot…”, I smiled, pressing my tongue to my front teeth, and sliding my hand into his pocket, searching.  
“What do you need?”, Dean croaked – his breath ragged.  
“This…”, I smiled, and pulled out a quarter.  
I leaned over him, and slid it into the slot on the small box by the bed; and pressing a button. The mattress instantly began vibrating.  
I let my breasts graze Deans face as I lowered myself over him again.  
“God, I love you!”, he rasped.  
I laughed, and kissed his lips gently. My lips traveled down his neck; kissing his adam’s apple as he lifted his chin. I kissed his collar bone – letting my hands rest on his waist – and continued downwards; feeling the blunt tip of his hardness against my belly.

I scooted down, lowered my head – and with a smirk up at Dean’s desperately wanton face – I grabbed his member, and kissed the tip.  
This wasn’t the first time I’d used my mouth on Dean; and I always enjoyed it. His taste was salty and sweet at the same time; like caramel, but better. I licked my lips, and opened them to take him in my mouth. Dean let out a choked groan; and grabbed the sheets by his hips. The vibration of the bed must have been intensifying the sensation for him.  
I gently sucked at him, and moved my head up and down – letting my hand work on the inches of him I couldn’t take in. Dean let out a whimper, when I massaged the underside of his penis with my tongue. I lifted my head.  
“Are you ok?”, I smiled.  
“Are you kidding?”, he chuckled. “Magic fingers and my best girl’s mouth…”.  
I grinned, and returned to my task.

This time, I put my hands on his hips, and slid my fingertips over his hipbones. I bobbed up and down; and felt Dean struggle to keep his composure. He was white knuckling the sheets at this point.  
I looked up, and met his pleading eyes. It was endearing to see him like this; but I wanted more.  
I grabbed his hands, and put them on the back of my head; pushing his fingers to hold on to me.  
“You sure?”, he groaned. I let my eyes smile at him.

Dean took a firm hold of my hair, and began controlling the movement of my head. The sweet stinging of his grasp, sent pleasing tingles down my spine.  
Dean pushed me downwards, and I relaxed my throat to take him as deep as I could. I knew he’d never hurt me, and I knew I had to convince him of that as well. I sucked harder at him, and made swallowing movements in my throat.  
“Lou… Careful. I don’t wanna…”.  
I relaxed my throat again; and Dean pulled me off him.  
“Yes, you do”, I whispered. He sighed and nodded.

I let my hand cradle his testicles, and massaged them gently; as he pushed me down again.  
“Don’t stop this time”, I said.  
I took him back into my warm mouth; and sucked.  
Dean clenched his jaw, and guided my head up and down. With my free hand, I scratched my nails down his belly; feeling his muscles clench under my touch.  
He was panting, and when his lips parted, small whimpers came from them. With each push of his hand, I took him deeper; and once again made swallowing movements. The vibration of the mattress was doing its best to make my own body respond – on top of the throbbing I was feeling in my core from the sheer intensity of the situation.  
Suddenly, Dean’s testicles tensed up, and he began moving my head faster. His legs were moving under me; and I clenched my thighs together to keep them in place.  
He let out a desperate growl, and came in my mouth. In that moment, the bed stopped vibrating; and I pulled him out of my mouth – swallowing with a pleased smile.

I laid myself down next to my lover. He put his arm behind my head, and I hid my face in his chest – suddenly strangely embarrassed.  
“What?”, he asked with ragged breath.  
“Was that… ok?”, I whispered.  
He lifted my chin and met my eyes.  
“Ok? That was… I mean, you’ve done that before, but that… was amazing!”. I smiled blushingly. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you…”. It was more a statement, than a question.  
“Really?”, I whispered; and brushed my lips against his chest.  
“I’m gonna need a few minutes”, Dean chuckled. I looked down, and could tell he wasn’t lying. “You took it out of me, sugar”.

I put my hand against his cheek, and stroked his temple. Dean sighed in content pleasure; and put his lips to mine again – suckling at my lips, and letting our tongues stroke against each other.  
He sat up, and shrugged his pants and underwear off completely; then hooked his fingers into my panties. I didn’t stop him this time, desperately needing his touch. My vagina was throbbing in want.  
Dean laid back next to me, and ran his fingers down my torso; reaching my warmth. His index finger traced the area around my folds, before sliding in between them – flicking over my clit. I jolted, and let out a squeak.  
“You good?”, he breathed.  
“Don’t stop”, I whispered, and tilted my head, so he could kiss my neck.

Opening his mouth, he brushed his lips against my skin, and flicked at it with his tongue – then matched the rhythm he used there, on my nub, with his finger.  
Soon, I was feeling a fire begin to burn from the inside. Every flick of Deans finger and his tongue drew me nearer to my undoing.  
“Inside…”, I pleaded.  
“Soon”, he promised. “Let me see you like this…”.  
I turned my face to look at him; and when my eyes met his; I came – letting out a series of heaving moans.  
“There we go”, he smiled.

Gliding two fingers towards my entrance as I was still heaving for breath.  
“Can you go again?”, he asked, kissing my shoulder; and crooking his fingers inside me. “Is this ok?”.  
I nodded, and closed my eyes.  
Dean began moving his hand up and down, as he had the last time, we’d been intimate – but his goal wasn’t to force something out of me as he had then. He was gentler, careful not to push me too far.  
“It’s ok”, I croaked. “I want it…”.  
“You sure? I don’t want to…”.  
“Please”, I whimpered. He nodded softly, and began moving his hand faster and harder.

The intense sensation of throbbing came quickly. Dean sat up, and used the heel of his free hand to press down against my lower abdomen.  
I grabbed the pillow behind me; digging my nails into it – feeling that I might fall off the face of the earth any moment. Dean looked at me warily.  
“Don’t stop”, I gasped.  
Dean’s continuous thrusting of his hand, and his fingers against my front wall, made me see white. I felt my walls clench hard around Dean’s fingers, and a pulsating through my clitoris, from where his palm rubbed against it.  
Dean pushed forcefully against my front wall, fast and with intent; wanting to draw me to that point he’d had me at the last time we’d been together – but this time, I’d asked for it, and he was doing it _for_ me. Not _to_ me.  
Everything around me disappeared but Dean and his hands; and I cried out, as my juices gushed from me. He slowed down his movements, wiped his hand in the sheet, then leaned down to kiss my cheeks and my forehead.

My body was still jolting as he laid down next to me; cradling me in his arms.  
“Thank you for letting me do that”, he whispered. “I love you”.  
“I love… Led Zeppelin… and you”, I rasped. Dean laughed a deep rumbling laugh.  
“My god, you’re perfect”, he grinned. “Do you need a moment?”.  
I shook my head.  
“Nuh uh…”, I said. “Get in there. Make an honest adulterer out of me!”.

With a sly smile, Dean placed himself between my still shaking legs. He pressed his lips to mine, took a hold of his penis, and probed the head against my clenching entrance. He pushed himself a few inches inside – searched my eyes for an ok, to which I responded with a nod – then bottomed out with a moan.  
I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding him close. My hands found his – yes, still very firm – bottom, and I followed his movements; trying to push him deeper with every thrust.  
Dean leaned on his elbows and looked down between our bodies; clearly enjoying the sight of himself moving in and out of me. I bit my lip, and smirked at him.  
“Enjoying the view again?”, I rasped.  
“You have no idea”, he panted; and pushed hard into me. After my two climaxes, I didn’t have the strength to clench around Dean on purpose; but that didn’t seem to bother him the slightest. Apparently, I was already tight enough as it was – as his movements began becoming erratic.

He lowered his body down onto mine; pushing me into the mattress with every thrust. Dean was moaning softly, and I kissed the skin at the crook of his neck; breathing in his scent – which now had the addition of adrenaline and pure sex.  
His hands traced every inch of my skin he could find, as if he was reacquainting himself with my body, in the most intimate way he could think of.  
I moved one hand up to Deans head, pulling him close for another kiss, and he nudged his nose against mine – his sparkling green eyes speaking volumes about how he felt in that moment.  
This strong, fragile man on top of me was just as much at my mercy, as I was at his.

Our bodies closeness made Dean’s pubic bone grind against me, and I was soon feeling the signs of another orgasm approaching.  
“Lou, I’m gonna have to… soon”, he breathed.  
“Yeah… me too”, I whimpered.  
“Again?”, he croaked. “I’ll take that as a compliment”.  
“Three times isn’t a record for us, but I’ll take it”, I smiled; before feeling a jolt of pleasure from my core. “Oh, god! Don’t stop…”.

Encouraged by my words, Dean began pushing harder into me; and put his arm around my back to hold me even closer to him.  
“Come on, baby. Take me with you”, Dean gasped; and I instantly unfurled – coming around him. Dean thrusted deep into me a few more times, before letting out a ragged gasp – and climaxing inside me, his penis throbbing. He relaxed on top of me; placing small kisses up and down my neck, and then kissing my lips.

We laid a few moments in relaxed pleasure; still riding our joint wave of bliss. Dean then gently pulled himself out of me, and held me tight against him. I rested my head against his shoulder, running my fingertips over his chest. I felt goosebumps emerge on his skin.  
“Let’s not wait another year to do this again, ok?”, I smiled.  
“Deal”, Dean chuckled, and kissed me.

\---

We woke to a pounding on the door.  
“Dean, open up! We got another one”, Sam’s voice called out.  
“Give us a minute”, Dean groaned.  
We untangled our limbs, and I got out of bed. I grabbed a flannel, and a pair of legging; quickly putting them on. Dean grabbed me from behind, and pulled me back for a quick kiss; and a squeeze to my butt.  
“Don’t”, I chided. “My husband is right outside”.  
Dean almost growled at me, before letting me walk over to unlock the door.

Dean was finishing dressing as well, and put on his suit jacket; as the two others entered the room.  
“I take it, you two… uhm…”, Sam said quietly, before clearing his throat embarrassedly.  
“It was everything a wedding night should be, save the actual husband present”, Dean grunted. I avoided meeting the eyes of any of the three men– feeling very self-conscious about having every person in the room knowing what I did the night before.  
“I wonder if this is what ever bride feels like the morning after her wedding”, I muttered, and put on my shoes.  
Castiel handed me a cup of coffee, and a greasy paper bag.  
“Muffins”, he said. “Nourishment”.  
“Thanks”, I muttered.  
The angel looked at me with sympathetic eyes.  
“Are you sore? I’ve heard many brides are sore the morning after their wedding”, he smiled comfortingly.  
“Please stop talking”, I sighed. Dean chuckled quietly, and as I walked past him, I hit him in the back of the head with the muffin-bag.  
“Don’t hit me with food!”, he groaned. I stuck out my tongue at him.

“What’s this about another killing?”, I asked, desperate for a change in subject.  
“Came in on the police scanner”, Sam said. “Clay Svenson and Myra Nielson”.  
“A lot of _sons_ in this town”, Dean muttered, accepting a cup of coffee from Castiel. “Feel like I’m in Norway. Even the furniture in this place is from IKEA”.  
I swallowed a bite of a muffin.  
“IKEA is Swedish”, I said.  
“Whatever”, Dean muttered. “So, we should go check out this crime scene”.

“Actually, I think Lulu and I should go to church”, Sam said. “Broaden our horizons, and maybe catch some more leads?”.  
I groaned.  
“I’d rather look at dead bodies”, I muttered. Dean sent me a sly smile.  
“Me and Cass take the bodies. You two… lovebirds, go get your worship on”. He walked over to me, and gave me a quick kiss.  
“Dude, that’s my wife!”, Sam chided, with mock anger. Dean frowned.  
“You have a point. Just a second”. He snaked his arm around my back, and pressed his lips to mine; kissing me with a passion, and tipping me backwards. Once he was finished, he helped me stand again, and licked his lips. “Ok, now I’m done. Let’s go”.  
He and Cass left the room, and I heard the Impala start up, and driving away.

I went into the bathroom, quickly cleaned up, brushed my hair; and began riffling through my bag for something seemly to wear to a Sunday service at a conservative Mississippi church.  
I was at a loss. I didn’t think jeans and a t-shirt would cut it; and I didn’t have a skirt that went beyond my knees. Even my fed-suit was out of the question, as its bottom half was slacks.  
“I don’t have anything to wear!”, I cried out.  
There was a knock on the door. I opened it slightly, and Sam’s hand handed me a piece of fabric in a horrible purple pastel.  
“Went shopping. Got the same thing as the cashier was wearing”.

I pulled the dress over my head, and looked into the mirror.  
“No!”, I yelled. “There is no way in hell… Nope. Forget it!”. I stepped back into the room. Sam fought against roaring out in laughter.  
I was wearing a shapeless dress, that went down to the middle of my shins. Apart from the fact that it was sleeveless, it might have been a nun’s habit.  
“I look like a purple bag of potatoes!”, I growled.  
“Put on a belt”, Sam shrugged. “Oh, and something to cover your shoulders”.  
I sent him a menacing look, and grabbed a cardigan from my bag.  
“I want a divorce!”, I hissed.  
Sam simply grinned, and held out his arm for me to take it.

\---

The service at the chapel we’d been married at the day before, had felt like it lasted forever. I was sweating bullets, and my jaw was hurting from the fake smiling I’d been doing the last hours.  
Sam and I were shaking hands with the other churchgoers between the pews; when the reverend came over to greet us.  
“I’m very happy you two decided to stop by today”, he smiled. “Are you considering settling down in town?”.  
“We might be”, Sam smiled. “Lulu here is very fond of the area. And we hear it’s a lovely place to raise children”. I smiled and nodded.  
“It’s… swell”, I lied.

“Most of the people here come from families who have lived here for generations”, Gunnar said. “Mostly Scandinavian descendants”. Sam gave me a look through the corner of his eye.  
“Well, that’s fascinating!”, I exclaimed. “I always found it fascinating how traditions from one’s ancestors can mix with the traditions you make yourself”.  
The pastor shook his head.  
“Oh, we don’t meddle in mythology here, young lady”, he chided. “Only God the almighty comes to this church!”.  
“Of course. I’m sorry”, I said.  
“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Winchester. I’d be happy to introduce you both to some of the young people around here; maybe you can join a bible-study group”. Sam and I both smiled and nodded.

Pastor Gunnar gestured towards a table at the back of the room, decked out with coffee and homemade cookies. I picked one up, and took a bite.  
“Mrs. Friday made those”, the reverend said. “The nice lady who played the organ for your wedding yesterday”.  
“That’s lovely”, I smiled. “Is she around?”.  
“She’s right up there, packing away her music sheets”. I looked towards the organ, and saw the woman in question; her hands shaking, as she put her papers into a purse. “She is also the go to person for all the newly married young women around here, whenever they have questions on how to make a marriage last. She is widowed herself, sadly – but she has some good advice none the less”.  
“Maybe you should go have a chat with her… pumpkin”, Sam goaded.  
“You two already having issues, son?”, Gunnar chuckled.  
“Oh, no”, I grinned. “We’re happy like… two bunny-rabbits in spring”. I patted Sam’s chest. “But I’ll go speak to her none the less. Thank you, reverend”.

I left Sam and the pastor to talk, and went over to the elderly organist. She was now wiping the intricate carvings on the organ with a rag. They reminded me of something I couldn’t quite place.  
“Excuse me? Mrs. Friday?”, I tweeted. The woman turned to face me. “Hello, my names is Lulu Mo… Winchester”. I smiled. “Sorry, it’s still very new”.  
The woman nodded.  
“Yes. I remember”, she smiled. “The shotgun wedding…”.  
I feigned embarrassment.  
“Yes… I might have embellished the truth a bit there”, I smiled. She narrowed her heavily made up eyes at me.  
“You’re not…”, she muttered. I shook my head.  
“No… I was just really keen on nabbing my hubby, over there”, I chuckled; and gestured towards Sam.  
“I see”, she smiled. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first. At some point, a man needs to be convinced to get down on that knee, doesn’t he…”.

I gave her a warm smile.  
“Yes well, about that…”, I muttered. “See, me and Samuel… we have been having some… difficulties, discussing certain issues within our marriage. I’ve been told that you might have some… advice? On having a good marriage”.

The old woman closed her bag, picked it up; and then put a comforting hand on my shoulder.  
“My husband – bless his soul – passed years ago; but we were happy”.  
“And… how did you _stay_ happy?”, I asked. Mrs. Friday looked around, making sure no one was listening.  
“Counseling”, she whispered. I furrowed my brows.  
“Counseling? Really…”, I said. “I’d think that was something a little too…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence.  
“Modern?”, the woman smiled. “Yes, around here, people tend to turn to _God_ for answers. But I’ll tell you – just like I’ve told every other young woman who have come to me for advice – find yourself a good marriage counselor”. She sighed, and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from her bag; writing down something on it. “Here… This therapist is excellent. The last couple I referred – Mr. and Mrs. Svenson – seemed to be very happy with her… Though, I heard there was a terrible accident yesterday… Poor Clay; and poor Myra for that matter”.  
I swallowed deeply, and gave her a bright smile.  
“We’ll… look in to it”, I said.  
“Good luck”, Mrs. Friday winked at me.

I made my way through the crowd, and sent Sam a look to let him know we needed to leave. He gave the reverend one final smile; before reaching out to take my hand – and we left the chapel as fast as we could.  
Sam suddenly slid an arm around me, and held me close. I looked in the direction he was; and joined him in waving at Mrs. Friday; who was getting into an old car.  
“What happened?”, Sam asked out the corner of his mouth.  
I looked at him meaningfully.  
“I think we need therapy”.


	2. Chapter 2

700 A.D. – Uppsala, Scandinavia

_The wind is howling through the cracks of the temple, as Hilda makes her way through the large room. The witch told her what she must do, what she must give.  
She has removed all her clothing, but her coarse underdress. Her face covered in white paint, and with a knife in her hand; she kneels in front of a dreary looking wooden statue.  
_ _“Drottning Frigg. Véurr af samför. Beiða dig. Víti min Holgir, som bregða hans heit til mig._ _Víti Estrid, den hora! Jeg gipt denna blót”.  
She cuts into her hand, and places it upon the statue; leaving a bloody print of her hand on it._

_The woman stands up, then turns around, and leaves the temple as quietly as she entered. As she arrives at the longhouse, and crawls back into bed with Holgir; a tall angry looking woman stares at her from a dark corner. Falling asleep quickly, she doesn’t notice the woman approaching the bed, and looking down at her husband._

_In the morning, all members of the household are woken by shrieks. “Hræ!”, a young slave cries; and points at the floor. Two figures lay there next to each other – both unmoving.  
Hilda turns to rustle her husband awake, but finds him gone from the bed; gets up to join the rest of the household now surrounding the two bodies._

_On the dirt floor – both with runes carved into their foreheads, and with their dead wide open in fear – lay Estrid and Holgir; dead._

_Hilda smiles softly; before contorting her face into sadness, and screaming._

\---

We went to meet Dean and Cass at a diner in a town over. They’d had to go there to see the corpses, as Uphall didn’t have its own police department.  
Dean and Castiel were waiting inside for us. When he saw what I was wearing, Dean stifled a grin.  
“I will shoot you”, I growled, and sat down at the table.  
“I’m sorry, but why are you wearing that jacket? It’s 100 degrees out there!”, Dean frowned.  
“It’s a cardigan, and because proper ladies don’t show their shoulders in church.  
“God doesn’t care about shoulders”, Cass said. “Why does the church?”.  
“There are a lot of churches who don’t exactly follow the Lord’s word”, I grunted.

A young waitress came over to us, and gave a sweet flirtatious smile to my brother in law – making it very difficult for me to keep my composure. I imagined the waitress’ head on a stake, to be able to give her my order. Dean seemed oblivious to my predicament; though he _was_ doing his best not to look at me, for fear of laughing at my clothes again.  
“Your greasiest burger, with a side of fries, darlin’”, he smiled at the woman, giving her a sly wink.  
Sam caught on to my expression, and kicked his brother under the table. Dean looked confused for a second, before looking at me, and clearing his throat. “And… a coke. Please”.

We sat in silence for a moment after the waitress had walked off.  
“How was church?”, Cass smiled.  
“Hell on earth”, I muttered. The angel frowned at me.  
“Why don’t you like church? You seem very opposed to the concept…”.   
I shrugged.  
“Not the concept so much as the execution of it”, I said. “All those people claiming to do God’s work, following _his_ commandments… but in reality, they make up their own rules; and pick and chose the parts of what they claim is their holy book, to make them seem like the good guys… It’s hypocritical”. The waitress returned with our drinks; and I took a big sip of my coke, before continuing. I was on a roll. “And the sanctimoniousness of it! Telling people how they can and can’t behave… _Don’t be gay, don’t be an immigrant, don’t bring store-bought cookies for the church picnic_ … Who the frack are they to judge? It’s not devoutness or even Christianity, it’s stupid!”.  
I didn’t realize how loud I’d been talking, when Sam put a hand on my shoulder, and looked towards a table nearby, where a family – clearly just having gotten in from church themselves – were seated.  
“So, you don’t like church”, Dean muttered. “Got it”.  
Castiel looked at me with compassionate eyes.  
“You’re always surprising me, Lulu”, he smiled.

Soon after our food arrived. I shook myself out of my anger, and focused.  
“Part from the sanctimoniousness, what did you find out at the chapel?”, Dean asked, and dove into his burger.  
“Well, your sister in law seems to think we need therapy”, Sam grinned. “Apparently, the last married guy to die went with his wife”.  
“We haven’t heard of any other couple going to see a shrink”, Dean chewed.  
I poked at my order of mac’n’cheese.  
“Who’d want to admit to that around here?”, I muttered. He shrugged in agreement. “We should at least check if there’s any connection there”.  
“Let’s finish up here, and then get back to the motel”, Sam said. “We’ll figure out our next step from there”.

\---

Once back in Uphall, Sam and Cass went to their room – presumably for Sam to shower and change, and for Castiel to do angel things. These days, I had no idea what that was.  
Dean and I were tiptoeing around each other, both knowing we needed to have a conversation about what had happened at the diner.

I was readying myself for a shower, when Dean suddenly spoke up.  
“I wasn’t flirting with the waitress”, he said.  
“Yeah… you were. It’s what you do”, I sighed. “You don’t even think about it”.  
He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  
“I’ll dial it down”, he said.  
“You promised not to try and change me”, I retorted quietly. “Only fair I do the same… Even when it _does_ make me want to punch other women in the face”.  
He walked over to me, and slid a lock of my own behind my ear.  
“Just don’t want you to think I’d…”, he tried.   
“Why not?”, I whispered. He gave me a slight smile.  
“You really need me to say it?”, he chuckled.

I flushed red, and turned away from him; going to grab some clothes from my bag.  
“Never mind”, I grunted.  
Dean grabbed my hand, and pulled me back towards him.  
“I get it…”, he said. “Even with what happened last night between us, it’s still been a long time since you and I were… really together. And I did a lot of crap while I had the mark, _and_ when I wasn’t… myself. I understand if you don’t trust me; and I don’t blame you”.  
I swallowed bile, remembering the pictures Crowley had showed me of Dean with other women when he was a demon; and how I’d seen him with the woman, at the bar I’d found him at back then.  
“We never made any promises”, I whispered. Dean put his hand on my cheek, and let his arm slide around me. His deep green eyes held my gaze with intent.  
“Love? What about that”, he asked.  
“Love isn’t a promise. It’s a connection”, I said. “It doesn’t break when one person decides to… That was why I did what I did with Castiel’s grace. You did everything you could to hurt me; but I didn’t stop loving you, or wanting to help you”.

Dean looked pained, remembering what he had done to his friends and family – and to me.  
“Maybe we _should_ make some promises”, he said.  
“Don’t, Dean…”, I whispered, shaking my head. “It’ll just hurt even more, when we can’t keep…”.  
“I promise…”, he interrupted me. “I promise to do whatever I can, never to hurt you. I promise to always tell the truth, even when it sucks. I promise to try to _try_ to stop telling you what to do – when it comes to hunting, I mean; you seem to like it when I’m a bit bossy between the sheets, sometimes”. He smirked as he finished the sentence, and slid his hand down to grope my bottom. I couldn’t help but smile. “And I promise to love and protect you, even when you think I’m being a jerk about it”.

I bit my lip, to stop grinning like an idiot.  
“Am _I_ supposed to promise something now?”, I muttered.  
“I mean, I don’t want to force it out of you, but…”, Dean smirked. I rolled my eyes.  
“I promise… to be there when you need me”, I said. “I promise to be honest, even when you hate what I have to say. I promise to love you; and to _try_ to stop giving you a hard time about wanting to keep me safe”.  
Dean raised a brow at me.  
“Pinky-swear?”, he grunted. I shrugged.  
“Seal it with a kiss”, I smiled.  
I put my arms around Deans neck, and got on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

After a moment of pure bliss – our lips locked and moving in a perfect dance – Dean pulled back, and looked down at me.  
“Truth time…”, he said. “That dress… You look like a purple sack of potatoes”.  
“I know!”, I whined. “Sam has crappy taste”.  
Dean leaned in to whisper in my ear.  
“I could have it off you in seconds”, he offered, sending promising tingles straight to my core.

Suddenly, Sam and Castiel walked in to the room; and we tore ourselves apart – both with unhappy expressions.  
“I’m gonna go change”, I muttered, finally got my clothes from my bag; and went into the bathroom. I took a few minutes to splash myself with some cold water; and to get my head back to the case, and away from what was stirring in my lower belly.

“It looks like you’re right. The therapist _is_ the connection”, Sam said, as I came back out; this time wearing shorts and a tank-top. The heat was almost unbearable, and I turned up the A/C as high as it would go.  
Dean handed me some phone records.  
“With every pair of victims, the one married had been in contact with the therapist Mrs. Friday recomended; dr. Jord”, he muttered.  
“I set up an appointment for the two of us, for later today”, Sam said. “She _is_ charging us extra for a weekend session”.  
“Great. The sooner we can end this sham of a marriage, the sooner I can get out of this heat”. Dean went to put a hand on my back. “I love you, but please don’t touch me”, I groaned. He frowned slightly, before walking over to get me a bottle of water from the fridge.

I went over to sit at the table. He gave me the cold bottle, and I held it against my neck; letting the condensation dribble down my skin, and sighing in relief. Dean looked at me, and seemed lost in impure thoughts for a moment.  
“Dean…”, Castiel said. “That is your brother’s wife”.  
“Shut up”, Dean muttered, and looked away. “Are we thinking the therapist controls the ghost?”.  
“If it _is_ a ghost…”, I said. “Any EMF on the victims?”.  
“None. Checked twice”, Castiel said.

“But the doc is still the only link”, Dean said. “She has to be connected somehow. Is she punishing the cheaters?”.   
Sam shrugged.  
“Don’t know yet”, he said. “But if she is, and we can convince her to focus her attentions on Lulu and me, we can stop her from killing anyone else”. Dean groaned. “Hey, we’re much more capable with dealing with this stuff, than some random civilians”.  
“Aw, you don’t think I’m a civilian? Thanks, teddy-bear!”.  
“You’re welcome, marshmallow!”, Sam grinned.  
“Stop!”, Dean growled. “You’re right. Let’s get this over with. You two need to get divorced, like _yesterday_!”.

“Do you still need me here?”, Cass asked. “I’m not doing much good. I should be researching the Darkness”.  
“Cass is right”, Sam said. “It would be good to have you back at the bunker. Especially in case we need something from the files there”.  
Castiel stood up, and smiled at us all.  
“I’ll see you all soon”, he said. “I wish you a bountiful marriage, with many children”.  
“Cass, we’re getting it annulled asap”, I chuckled.  
“Right…”, he said. “Probably for the best, seeing as you’re having sex with Dean… Well, bye!”.  
He left the room, and got into his own car outside; taking off.  
I raised my brows and shook my head.  
“Just when I think he can’t get any weirder, he becomes…”.  
“Weirder…”, Dean muttered. “Yeah, but we all love him”.  
I smiled and nodded.

Sam sighed.  
“We should get get back in bible-belt garb before we go see that therapist”, he said.  
“I’m not going anywhere, if it means putting back on that disgrace you call a dress”, I proclaimed.  
“Obey…”, Dean muttered. I threw the bottle of water at him.  
“Can it!”, I hissed. “Not putting it on again”.

\---

Two hours later, I was seated in the waiting room of dr. Jord, next to my husband; wearing the purple potato sack. I was frowning and grinding my teeth.  
“I’ll get you back for this”, I whispered.  
“You look… nice”, Sam replied, stifling a smile.  
The door into the office opened, and a striking blonde woman stepped out to meet us.  
“You must be the Winchesters”, she smiled brightly, and shook both our hands. “Please come in”.

The office was sparsely decorated, with a few motivational posters, and a painting of a beautiful inlet and some green hills. There was a diploma from the university of Stockholm; proclaiming Fulla Jord a doctor of psychology. On the table in front of us stood a box off tissues, and a bowl of bright red apples adorned the doctor’s desk.

The doctor gestured for us to sit on a plush couch, as she herself sat down in a recliner in front of her desk.  
Sam gestured towards the painting on the wall.  
“That is a lovely piece”, he smiled.   
“Thank you”, the doctor smiled. “It’s my family’s home”.  
“Sweden?”, I asked. “I noticed your diploma…”.  
“Yes”, dr. Jord nodded. “We lived by one of the many fjords there. It was painted from memory”.  
“We should get something like it for the house”, I said.

The doctor crossed her legs, and leaned back in her chair.  
“Now, you two didn’t come here for decorating advice”, she said. “If you’re here today, it must be because you’ve been experiencing some… issues, in your marriage”. Sam and I nodded solemnly. “How long have you been married?”.  
“Days”, I said.  
“Years”, Sam said at the exact same time. He looked at me and chuckled. “Sometimes it _feels_ like years”, he added.  
I punched his shoulder.  
“Oh, you!”, I grinned, widening my eyes at him.

Dr. Jord pulled out a notepad and a pen.  
“You’re newlyweds, I gather”. We nodded. “And happy?”.  
“Very!”, Sam said. I grimaced.  
“Well…”, I sighed. “Samuel isn’t quite the man I imagined he’d be, before we married”. Sam frowned at me.  
“What do you mean?”, the doctor asked.  
I shrugged, and looked out the corner of my eye at my husband.  
“He eats… _so_ much salad”, I said. “He thinks it makes him regular, but it makes his… I can’t even go _near_ the bathroom after he’s been in there”.  
Sam’s lips vibrated, before he drew them up into a fake smile.  
“The doctor doesn’t want to hear about my… intestinal issues, pudding!”, he almost hissed.  
I shrugged him off.  
“And then, there’s his constant broodiness, whenever his coffee-order isn’t _just_ right”, I sighed. “I keep telling him; _Sammy-wammy, you shouldn’t be having coffee if you’re irregular!_ ”.

The doctor widened her eyes.  
“Ok! Well, I’m a psychologist, not a general practitioner”, she smiled. “Let’s get back to how you feel about each other emotionally”.  
Sam cleared his throat.  
“Lulu here… she has a tendency to let her eyes wander”, he said solemnly.  
I rolled my eyes.  
“Well, _he’s_ been married before… didn’t tell me”, I muttered. Sam looked at me in horror. “Your brother told me about Becky, Samuel! How _could_ you?”. He seemed to swallow bile.  
“That’s not a reason to cheat on me!”, Sam hissed. “On our wedding night!”.

Dr. Jord parted her lips, and drew in a short breath.  
“You… had extramarital relations, Lulu?”, she asked.  
Sam nodded pointedly.  
“Yup! With my _brother_ , no less”.  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“He has a firm butt”, I smirked. Sam visibly shuddered.  
A smile ghosted the doctors face.  
“And that made you angry, didn’t it, Samuel?”.  
“Damn right, it did!”. The doctor raised her hand.  
“Please, no profanity. I’m a worshipping woman”, she pleaded.  
“I’m sorry”, Sam muttered. “It just makes me so…”. He sighed, and shook his head.  
I looked down, feigning sadness.

“And what does it make you want to do?”, the doctor asked. “What would you like to happen?”.  
I looked out the corner of my eyes at Sam. He grabbed my hand, and gave it a squeeze.  
“Well, of course, I’d like her to see the… pain she’s caused me”. The doctor nodded.  
“You might say, you’d like her to be punished…”, dr. Jord said. “Maybe even punish your brother, whom she went behind your back with”.  
Sam swallowed hard.  
“I don’t know if I’d use those words”, he muttered.

“Neither of us wants the other to be hurt…”, I began.  
The doctor raised her hand to stop me.  
“Please, Lulu. This is Samuel’s time to share”. She furrowed her brows at my husband. “Listen, Samuel. Sometimes the path to healing, is speaking the _words_. Getting it out there”. She pushed the box of tissues in his direction. “You have to _say_ what you want to happen”.

Sam looked at me, and I took a deep breath, before nodding at him. He clenched his jaw.  
“I would like Lulu to be punished for being unfaithful, and my brother to be punished for having sex with my wife”.  
Dr. Jord smiled warmly.  
“Now, wasn’t it nice getting that out of your system?”, she breathed.

She grabbed a document from the desk behind her. “I think that’s all the time we have for today; but I have some papers for you to sign”. I reached for the document, but she pulled it away from me. “No, Samuel should sign this”, she smiled.  
Sam furrowed his brows for a moment.  
“All right”, he said, and reached for the papers. The doctors hand seemed to shake for a moment, and as Sam had his fingers on them, she pulled them away from him again. Sam balled his hand into a fist, and hissed slightly. “Sorry, I forgot the pen”, the doctor smiled, and looked at Sam. “Paper cut?”.  
Sam looked down at his fingers, and nodded. He grabbed a tissue from the box, and dabbed at his hand.  
“You ok?”, I muttered. He looked at me.  
“Yeah, just a small cut”.

The doctor handed Sam the papers and a pen; and took the bloody tissue from him.  
“I’ll take care of that. Just sign the papers”, she said. She walked behind her desk, and seemed to discard the tissue, before grabbing one of the apples, and taking a bite of it. “I’d offer you one, but they’re part of my diet”, she excused herself.  
Sam and I stood up, and thanked the doctor.  
“Same time next week?”, I asked.  
“We’ll see if I can squeeze you in”, she smiled. “Call my office”.

\---

Back at the motel, Dean was waiting with a worried expression.  
“What happened?”, he demanded. “Why didn’t you call?”.  
“We were fine”, I sighed. “I think Sam just damned you and I to be killed, is all. All according to plan”.  
Dean stood up from his chair and walked over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.  
“You sure you’re ok? No weird carvings anywhere on your skin?”. He ran a thumb over my forehead.  
“We’re all right”, Sam said. “The doctor wanted me to _say_ that I wanted you two punished… That part was weird”.  
He went to sit by his computer.  
“So, now we just hang out, and wait for whatever monster is going to kill you two?”, Dean grumbled.  
“Well, we could try to figure out what it is, before it arrives”, I smiled.  
“Should have done that before Sam doomed you both”, Dean growled.

I took a deep breath.  
“I think I might have an idea, actually. Let me see those runes carved into the victims’ foreheads again”, I said. Sam turned his computer around for me to see the screen.  
“You sure they’re runes?”, he asked.  
“Makes sense”, Dean said. “It’s like… _Little Denmark_ here”.  
I began searching for runic translations, and found exactly what I needed.  
“Guys, check this out”, I said. “This rune, it belongs to the Asir goddess, Frigg. The guardian of marriages, and married herself… to Odin”.  
“So, she’s Thor’s mom”, Dean said. “Cool”.  
I shook my head.  
“Actually, no”, I replied. “Odin had a tendency to play the field a bit”. I raised my brows at the others.

Sam came to look at the screen over my shoulder.  
“I’m sure his wife wasn’t too thrilled about that…”, he muttered. “Says here, people would do… blot?”.  
“ _Blót_ ”, I corrected him. “It’s a blood sacrifice, in Viking mythology. You’d give an animals blood as a sacrifice for a better crop, or a good raid; but I’m guessing that if your request was more personal – say you wanted to punish a cheating spouse – you’d sacrifice your own blood”.  
Sam looked at his hand.  
“The paper cut”, he breathed.  
“You did a _blót_ , Sammy”, I grinned.  
Sam began reading from the page I’d opened.  
“ _Frigg is the daughter of Jórd_ ”, he muttered. “Is the doc using her mother’s name, you think?”.  
“It was normal to take your parents name as a last name, back in those days”. My eyes widened in remembrance. “And the apples!”, I gasped. “Those were probably Idun’s apples. The Asir – the gods – would eat them to stay young”.  
“You know a lot about this”, Sam chuckled.  
“She reads a lot”, Dean muttered.  
I gave them a smug smile.

“So, you’re saying we’re fighting a deity?”, Dean asked. “Who’s also a marriage counselor…”.  
“Looks like it”, I muttered.  
Dean smiled.  
“Let’s go gank the bitch”, he said. “Sam, grab some stakes. We’ll drop by the morgue on the way, to get some blood from the victims”.  
I got up from my chair to get my equipment. Dean grabbed my arm.  
“Thanks, Lou; but your part in this is over”, Dean proclaimed. “This is where it gets bloody. You don’t need to be there”.  
“The hell, I do!”, I snarled. “You can’t cut me out of this now…”.  
“Can and will. You’ve never dealt with a deity before. Out of your league”.  
I crossed my arms in front of me.  
“So, what…? My part in this was just to show up and have sex with you?”, I asked. “I don’t think so!”.  
“Suck it up, buttercup”, Dean grunted.

I scoffed in anger.  
“Pop quiz!”, I demanded. Sam’s face dropped; and he hurried himself out of sight, outside to pack up the car.  
Dean shrugged, and smirked at me.  
“All right… Nachzehrer?”, he said.  
“Nope… I’m asking this time”. He frowned at me. “You worried you can’t do it?”, I asked. Dean rolled his eyes.  
“Fine. Go…”.

“Selkie”, I exclaimed.  
“Silver”, Dean sighed.  
”Satyr?”.  
”Stake”, he retorted.  
”Close. Olive branch; dipped in virginal blood”, I smiled. “Boggart”.   
Dean furrowed his brows, seeming to need extra time to think.  
“Nothing?”, I asked. “Ok. Lure it out with porridge, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Hide a copper coin on the bottom of the bowl. It’ll poison the boggart, and it will die”. Dean shrugged.

“So you read up on boggarts, _as well_ as Nordic gods! Great”, he grunted. “Still doesn’t mean you should be doing field work”.  
“Huldra”, I growled.  
“I told you…”.  
“Huldra!”, I yelled this time.  
“Bronze dagger”, Dean snarled.  
“Wrong. Iron”, I said. “Huldras are fae-folk”.  
“Whatever. They’re probably not real anyway”, he snorted.  
“See this?”, I asked, turning my arm, so Dean could see the faint scar on my bicep. “Three months ago. Wisconsin. She tripped me with her tail, and I cut it on a branch in the fall”.  
“They have tails?”, Dean muttered.  
“Cows tails, yeah”, I sneered. “The lore usually gets it wrong, and thinks it’s a fox’s tail – but that’s actually the Skogsra”.

Dean cursed below his breath. I threw my hands up in the air.  
“Why do we always end up having this discussion?”, I sighed. “How long have I been doing this now? And you’re still trying to tell me what I can and can’t hunt. Remember when you promised me, you would stop telling me what to do?”.  
Dean sighed.  
“I also promised to protect you, Lou. I just don’t think…”. He didn’t finish his sentence.  
I clenched my jaw.  
“You don’t think I’m good enough”, I snarled.

Dean’s face contorted into deep frustration.  
“It’s purely selfish, ok?”, he growled. “I admit it. I _know_ you can hunt, and I know you’re smart and capable… But it doesn’t matter how good a hunter you are; any time you go out there could end in you dying. Trust me; I’ve done it multiple times”.  
“So what are you saying?”, I croaked.  
“I don’t want you dying. Simple as that”, Dean sighed. “I don’t want to be in a world where you aren’t. Because I love you”.

Feeling tears welling up, I walked over to him, and punched him slightly in the chest.  
“Dick move, Dean”, I muttered. “Not fair pulling the _love_ card”.  
He put one arm around me, and lifted my chin with his free hand.  
“It’s true. If it had been up to me, you wouldn’t even be here”, he retorted. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you are. Thanks for cheating on my brother with me”.  
“Yeah, that part was fun”, I smirked.  
He let out a soft laugh, and pressed his lips to mine.

“Please stay”, he pleaded. “I swear, I’ll let you help out on the next one”.   
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.  
“There’s a crossbow in your armory…”, I grunted.  
“It’s yours!”, Dean promised instantly.  
“And I get to drive part of the way back to the bunker, in your car”, I bargained.  
Dean groaned.  
“Fine… What about the T-bird?”.  
“Sam can drive him”, I said. “Hey, look on the bright side, I’m coming back with you”.  
Dean stroked my temple, and smiled down at me.  
“How long?”, he asked.  
“Until I get sick of you… or something comes up”, I smirked.

Dean locked me into his arms, and kissed me deeply, letting our lips mold gently against each other.  
“Kissing my brother’s wife”, he muttered. “Oh, yeah!”.

\---

While the guys finished packing up the car, I wrote up different kinds of crossbow bolts I’d like to make in the bunker, when we got back there.  
“Dude, explosives!”, I cheered.  
“Don’t blow up our home…”, Sam groaned.  
“Ooh! Or small vials of holy water?”, I realized. “Taking out demons from a distance…”.  
“Might work”, Dean chuckled.

He came over to me, and kissed my lips quickly. Sam was about to wave me goodbye, and I halted him.  
“Oh, snugglebottom? Don’t you go anywhere, without giving wifey some sugar”, I smiled, and pointed at my cheek. Sam gave me a quick peck on my cheekbone; and Dean _almost_ looked like he didn’t want to kill him. They left soon after.

I packed up my things, and readied myself for the drive back to Kansas, which would be about a day of driving, with breaks. I marked up some sights to see on the way, in case we had time; and no one interrupted us with cases that needed to be handled right away.   
It had been a while since I’d been on the road with the brothers, and though we’d be in separate cars, I was looking forward to it. Especially the part where I’d get to drive the Impala.

Dean texted me after a few hours.  
\- _Doc left office. Following her home. Less audience. See you soon.  
_ I appreciated being kept in the loop, but I was still harboring some resentment for not being with the guys, as they took down Frigg.

After another hour, there was a knock to the door. I looked out the peephole, and opened the door.  
“Mrs. Friday”, I smiled. “Can I help you?”.  
“I’m here for your husband”, she smiled. “May I come inside?”.  
I stepped aside, and let the elderly woman inside.  
“Would you like some coffee?”, I asked. I turned to face the counter. “I’m afraid we only have instant…”.  
Looking up, I saw my own reflection in the window, and the old lady behind me. For a second, I thought it was an unevenness in the glass, as she seemed to have grown taller behind me. Then the hair at the back of my neck began to stand up, as she approached me.

“No coffee for me”, she said, her voice breathy. “I brought my own snack”. She pulled a bright red apple out of her purse, and took a bite off it. “As I said, I am here for your husband. On his behalf”.

I spun around, and my eyes widened, as I now saw a tall grey-haired woman standing in front of me.  
“Mrs. Friday”, I croaked. “ _Frigg’s day_ ”.  
She smiled slightly, and nodded.  
“My sister is keeping an eye on your lover, while I am here to get you”.  
“Your sister?”, I whispered. Frigg nodded.  
“Yes, she is less known than me, but Fulla has been my confidant and helper for eons”.

“So, you’re both Nordic goddesses. Interesting choice of home you’ve made… The bible belt”, I choked.  
I began stepping away from her, keeping my back to the wall, and approaching my bag.  
“Yes”, she agreed. “It’s too hot here. I _do_ miss my home”. I could still see the old woman in her eyes. This creature was ancient. “Which is why I brought it here. Almost every person in this town is a descendant of my worshippers”.  
“Only problem is, now they’re Christians”, I muttered, nearing my goal.  
She shrugged.  
“Are they, though?”, she asked. “They don’t follow his commandments. They follow what they _tell_ themselves he wants from them… All I needed was a group of people who believed like I do. That marriage is sacred, and should not be broken!”.  
As she spoke the last sentence, she waved her hand; and an invisible force threw me against the wall.

I struggled to breathe, as I felt my body pressed against the wall.  
“Is that what you told your own husband? Odin?”, I rasped. “Did you kill him too?”.  
Frigg walked over to me slowly, gracefully.  
“Don’t speak of what you don’t know…”, she warned me.  
“Why? You’ll kill me?”, I asked. “I thought that was a given”.

Frigg waved her hand again, and I flew against one of the chairs, which shattered from the force of my body being thrown at it. I cried out in pain, as I felt a piece of wood stab me in the calve.  
“Huh… not IKEA”, Frigg muttered. “Their work is usually more durable”. She shrugged, took another bite of her apple; then backhanded me across the face.

\---

I woke up in a room I recognized as the insides of the roadside chapel. Turning my head, I saw Dean splayed out on the floor, unconscious – or at least I hoped he was only unconscious. I reached for his hand, and his fingers reacted to my touch. I let out a sigh in relief. We had been placed near the altar, next to the organ – which carvings I now recognized as being runes.

“It’s not often _men_ come to us for help… but it happens. Like in your case”. I recognized dr. Jord’s voice. “Though I don’t think we’ve ever had the scorned wife or husband show up for the punishment”.  
I heard Sam groaning in pain.  
“So you’re not Frigg”, he sneered. “What about your last name?”.  
“We’re sisters, you idiot!”, the doctor growled. “I took our mothers name. Frigg decided against it. A woman has choices, you know”.  
“Fulla…”, another voice – Frigg’s – interrupted. “It is time. Leave him”.

I found it hard to move, but I managed to crawl towards the pews; getting underneath them. Trying to use my right leg as leverage to scoot myself forward, I almost cried out in pain from the pain in my calve. I held my hand to it, and saw that I was bleeding profusely.

I peeked out from under the pew, and saw that Sam was tied down to a chair. His back was to me, and I noticed he was trying to loosen the ropes around his wrists.  
I was still wearing the horrible dress, and had no weapons on me; not that any metal could harm these women. I needed a stake, with a victim’s blood.

Two sets of feet approached the altar.   
“Where is the woman, Fulla?”, Frigg asked. “You should have kept an eye on them!”.  
They began searching the room for me, and I noticed Dean stirring on the floor.  
“Hold him down!”, Fulla said. “Prepare him. I’ll find her”.  
Frigg straddled Dean’s body, and held a knife to his forehead.  
“ _Jeg víti dig, heit bregda!_ ”.

Sam began jolting in his chair. Fulla waved her hand, and Sam was slammed against the wall – the chair breaking in the impact.  
“Not IKEA, sister!”, Fulla laughed.  
Dean was awake at this point, struggling against Frigg’s hold on him. She backhanded him as she had me; but he braced against her hit, and she didn’t knock him out.

I crawled towards Sam. He was heaving for breath; his arms still tied behind his back.  
“Stakes?”, I whispered.  
“Gone”, he groaned. Thinking fast, I grabbed two pieces of the shattered chair. “Needs victim’s blood”, Sam choked.  
I looked down at the gash in my leg. Sam’s eyes widened, and he parted his lips; shaking his head.  
“Say the blessing”, I whispered.  
With a pained expression, Sam muttered some words bellow his breath; and I jabbed both pieces of wood into my wound – the pain of it so excruciating, I almost passed out again.

“She’s here!”, Fulla cried out; and suddenly, two strong hands wrapped around my neck – holding me up in the air. I clutched the two makeshift stakes, as Fulla carried me over to the altar.  
Dean’s eyes widened when he saw me. Frigg had only managed to make a slight cut to his forehead, as he’d fought her tooth and nail.  
Hanging in the air, I began swinging myself back and forth, until I could kick Fulla in the chest. Strong as she was, I’d gotten her hard enough, that she let go of me, and toppled backwards.

My bad leg felt like it was on fire; and I fought to get upright – letting out a roar in pain as I got up, and threw myself at Frigg; forcing her off Dean. She grabbed my hair; and threw me against the wall. I managed to keep a hold on the stakes, as I slid down to the floor.  
Sam had gotten free from the ropes, and ran towards Fulla; elbowing her in the face. The blonde goddess fell to the floor.  
“Why are you fighting us?”, Frigg yelled. She walked towards him, and held out her hand. Sam instantly began choking for air.  
Fulla got to her feet.   
“We are doing this for _you_ ”, she smiled.  
“Your _wife_ and her lover have to pay for breaking the sacred vow she made to you”, Frigg snarled.

Dean got off the floor, and ran towards me; when Fulla waved her hand, and an invisible force knocked him to the floor next to me.   
“I don’t want you to”, Sam choked. “I take it back. Don’t punish them”.   
“They broke your marriage!”, Frigg roared.

I held out one of the stakes to Dean, and he took it; nodding at me. We put the stakes behind our backs.  
“Like Odin broke yours?”, I called out.  
Frigg turned her enraged face towards me.  
“Hold your tongue, whore!”, she snarled. “You and your lover will be punished for your misdeeds…”.  
“Well, we _did_ do the deed, all right”, Dean jeered. “It was _good_ ”.  
“That’s probably what Odin said, when he crawled up Freya’s skirts”, I smirked.  
Dean raised a brow at me. I shrugged.  
“I read”, I muttered.

Frigg turned her whole body towards us, and Sam fell to the floor.  
Fulla gave Frigg a look.  
“Sister?”, she said.  
“This ends _now!_ ”, Frigg growled, and both deities sprang for us; pushing us both down on the floor.

As the goddesses straddled us – Frigg on me, and Fulla on Dean – we sat up, pulled out our stakes; and stabbed each of them in the chest. There was a pair of loud shrieks, and both women disappeared in smoke.

I gasped and collapsed on the floor again. Dean put his arm around my back, and pulled me up to sit.  
“Are you ok?”, he demanded.  
“Ow…”, I croaked. “Not really”. I looked down at the gash in my leg. “You got your way. I can’t drive”.  
Dean shook his head, and smiled.  
“You did good, sweetheart”, he said, and kissed my forehead. “Sammy?”.  
Sam raised a hand in the air.  
“Alive… breathing. Nothing’s broken”, he croaked.

Dean got up, and pulled me up to stand next to him; putting my arm around his shoulder.  
“Can we leave now?”, I rasped. “I’m _so_ done with this church”.  
Dean supported my weight, as we headed towards the door. Sam followed us.  
“Lulu?”, he said.  
“Yeah?”, I sighed.  
“I want a divorce”.

\---

I was seated at the table in our motel room; my leg lifted on a chair. In front of me on the table lay a document.  
“We had a good run, Sam”, I smiled. He grabbed my hand, and gave me his best impression of a whimpering puppy.  
“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?”, he asked; mischief in his eyes. “We might still be able to…”.  
“She’s sure”, Dean growled, and stuck a pen into my hand. “Sign!”  
I chuckled, and put my signature on the designated line. Dean audibly sighed in relief.  
I pushed the papers across the table towards Sam. He frowned in jest.  
“Brother, I will kick your ass!”, Dean snarled.  
Sam looked at him and laughed, before signing the document. Dean folded up the papers, and put them in his jacket pocket.

“Twice divorced by now, Sam… Doesn’t say much about you as a husband”, I smirked.  
Sam threw up his hands.  
“Man, why did you have to tell her about Becky?”, he groaned.  
Dean smirked.  
“At least _this_ wife was an _actual_ hunter. Not a pretend one”, he said.  
“That’s right. I kicked that Nordic goddess in the ass!”, I declared, and kicked my leg; before wincing in pain. “Ow”.  
“Don’t tear your stitches”, Sam smiled. “So, home”.

Dean and I nodded, and I went to stand, when he halted me.  
“Let’s do this properly”, he grunted, and picked me up; bridal style.  
“What are you doing?”, I asked, putting my arm behind his neck.  
“Carrying you over the threshold… backwards”. He walked over to the door, and turned his back to it. “Sam? Door…”.  
“Dude, you can’t undo the _over the threshold_ thing, just by doing it backwards”, Sam laughed.   
Dean frowned.  
“You’re right”, he muttered. “You carried her in, _you_ got to carry her out”.  
“Dean…”, Sam tried.  
“Sammy, carry your ex-wife backwards out that door, or I swear to god, I’ll set fire to your hair products!”, Dean growled.

Sam shook his head, and took me from Dean’s arms. I laughed and shook my head, as my ex-husband backed out of the door, with me in his arms.  
Dean got the passenger door to the Impala, and Sam set deposited me on the seat. I handed him the keys to the T-bird.  
“Don’t change my presets”, I warned him. Sam simply smiled, and got into my Boy.   
“See you in a few hours!”, he called out, started up my car; and sped out of the lot – the tires squealing.  
“Don’t burn my tires!”, I cried out in frustration.

“He’ll be fine”, Dean smiled, as he got in next to me.  
“I know he will, but what about my car?”, I grumbled.  
“That’s who I was talking about”, he said. He put his arm up on the backrest, reversed the Impala – and with his trademark smirk – sped out of the lot.  
  



End file.
